The Dark Rose of Brooklyn
by Brooklyn'sRoisinDubh
Summary: Sometimes the best things happen when you least expect them.
1. Manhattan

Disclaimer: I own nothing that is recognizable from Newsies. Disney gets that honor.

This is my first fan fic, so please be patient with me and hopefully it won't suck too bad. Reviews are welcome!

Brigid O'Malley clutched her battered valise to her as she stepped off the ferry that had carried her from Ellis Island to Manhattan. A steady rain fell as her green eyes surveyed the bustling wharf, and she was thankful that although it was well into September, the rain was a warm one. Meandering aimlessly through the crowds of fishermen, longshoremen, and fellow immigrants, she let her gaze wander over the crowd until she spied what she searched for. With a determined step, she fought her way across the street and down the sidewalk to the corner.

"Buy a pape, miss?" the paperboy asked as Brigid approached him.

"No, it's information I'm lookin' fo'," she answered as she studied the boy before her. Tall and muscular with dark curly hair and expressive dark eyes. '_Handsome if ye like da type,' _she thought to herself. She watched as the boy looked her over in return, his eyes curious as he took in her tattered boys clothes.

"What can I'se help youse wit'?" he asked finally. Brigid gestured to his papers.

"I need t' know where yer distribution center is, as well as a place t' kip," she replied. The boy scratched his head.

"I'se can tell youse where dey sell da papes, but I'se don' know nuttin' 'bout no kip," he said, eyeing Brigid doubtfully. She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled slowly, trying to be patient.

"A' place t' sleep," she explained. The boy's eyes lit up with understanding.

"Well, dere's da Newsie's Lodgin' House," he began. Brigid nodded her head, encouraging him to continue.

"But youse can' stay dere," he finished with a patronizing smile. Brigid raised an eyebrow.

"An' why is dat, me boyo?" she asked, an angry current drifting just below her conversational tone. The boy's eyes widened and a faint blush crept up his cheeks.

"Well, youse a goil!" he stammered. Brigid sighed in exasperation. She had prepared herself for this kind of reaction, but it didn't make the actual confrontation any less annoying.

"Jack won' let youse stay dere, it's fo' newsies only," he tried again. Brigid barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Now isn' a newsie someone like ye who sells da papes? An' if I were t' go t' da distribution center tomorrow an' buy some papes, wouldn' I be a newsie as well?" The boy shook his head in defeat.

"I'se gonna let Jack decide dis one. If youse wanna stay close t' me, I'll take youse dere when I'se done sellin'," he offered.

"Or ye could tell me how t' get dere, an' I could be one me way," Brigid shot back. The boy looked slightly shocked.

"I'se not gonna let youse wander 'roun' by yerself! It's not safe!" he protested. Brigid opened her mouth to argue, but then closed it again with a resigned sigh and fell in step beside him as he started off down the sidewalk. They walked for awhile, their silence broken only by the boy calling out his headlines. Finally, the boy cleared his throat.

"So what's yer name?" he asked as they turned further from the docks and into the city. Brigid kept her eyes on her surroundings as she answered.

"Roisin Dubh, or Roisin, if ya like."

"Rosheen Dove, huh? Dat's nice," the boy trailed off vaguely. Brigid glanced at his blank expression and couldn't resist a chuckle.

"Roisin Dubh. Means Dark Rose in Irish. Back home da lads used t' call me dat cause o' me hair. Dey all said I was da prettiest girl in Ringsend," she said with a wistful smile. The boy frowned slightly at her sad tone.

"M'names Mush," he said, pulling her out of her musing state. Brigid looked up at him with a smirk, causing him to blush all over again. '_Sweet Mary, he'd never make it in Dublin, sweet as he is,' _she laughed to herself.

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully as the pair wandered through Manhattan. Finally, Mush sold his last pape, and the two headed towards the lodging house. Brigid again focused most of her attention on her surroundings, trying to memorize some of the street names and landmarks. A few blocks later, a cart loaded with apples caught her eye and she tugged Mush to a halt.

"I'm gonna go get an apple. Would ye like one?" she asked. Mush shook his head.

"I'se'll wait if youse wanna go," he replied. Brigid darted across the street and carefully eyed the selection. She finally found one that was bruised enough to be offered at a cheaper price, but not so bruised that it wasn't crisp and juicy when she bit into it. Chewing happily, she turned back to where she had left Mush. She felt a moment of panic followed closely by anger when she scanned the crowd without seeing him.

"I'se'll wait if youse wanna go," she mocked both Mush and herself for believing him. Resignedly, she re-crossed the street to where they had parted, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in the crowd. A noise in a nearby alley caught her attention and she went to investigate. To her dismay, Mush was being held by a young man. Another one was advancing on the pair, fist raised. A glint off his hand told Brigid that he had a set of brass knuckles. She dropped her apple in the dirt and began to creep down the alley.

"Run, Roisin!" Mush yelled when he noticed her. The taller, uglier of the two men turned, his mouth twisting into a cruel smile. Brigid took a couple steps closer and then stopped, watching as the man advanced towards her. Mush struggled against his captor, but froze when Brigid smiled a cold smile of her own. She waited until her opponent was close enough to grab her, and when he tried, she spun lightly out of the way and planted her fist into his nose. A knee to his groin and her hands slapped over his ears had him on the ground. With a feral grin, she advanced on the man holding Mush.

Mush stared in shock at the girl before him. Then his survival instincts kicked in and he drove his elbows into his captor's stomach. The man releases him and doubled over. Mush ran forward, catching Brigid's hand on the way by, and pulling her out of the alley and onto the street. They ran for several blocks before Mush brought them to a halt in front of a worn but homey looking building. A group of boys stood in front, watching the approaching couple curiously.

"Who's da goil, Mush?" a tall boy sporting a cowboy hat asked.

"Me names Roisin Dubh," Brigid said as she held out her hand.

"Means Dark Rose," Mush whispered loudly to a boy wearing an eye patch. The tall boy studied Brigid for a long moment before spitting into his palm and grasping hers.

"Jack Kelly, or Cowboy t' my friends," he answered. Then he took in the darkening bruise on Mush's cheek and the skinned knuckles on Brigid's right hand.

"Care t' tell me what's goin' on, Mush?" Jack asked, his tone clearly conveying that it was more a command than a request. As Mush proceeded to tell him about the day's events, Brigid took the opportunity to study the boys around her. They were a rag tag group ranging from some very young boys up to their leader, who looked to be about eighteen. The overall impression that Brigid got was that they were an easygoing group, and vastly different from the lads in Dublin. She smirked slightly when she caught several of them looking her over, causing them to blush.

Jack was silent for a moment after Mush finished his tale. Then he sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"We've nevah had a goil newsie befo', but as long as youse abide by my rules an' pay yer way, I'se guess we can try dis out fo' a bit an' see what happens," he said finally. Brigid let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and smiled in relief.

"T'anks fo' dat, Jack," she said before she was whisked off by Mush to be introduced around.


	2. Brooklyn

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Newsies. Brigid/Roisin Dubh and Doyle are mine.**

**A/N My plan was to start this and then go on two weeks of vacation and work very hard at this. However, work sucks and my vacation is delayed. I am still writing this, just a little less frequently than planned.**

**Royal Shadow1- Yours is the first review I have ever gotten from anyone, as I have never let anyone read any of my stories before. I honestly didn't realize how special a review could make someone feel! Thank You! :)**

**Firefly Conlon- Thank you for reading and taking the time to review. I can't wait to see how this works out either! LOL!**

A week later, Brigid sat in Tibby's with Mush, Blink, Race, and Snoddy. The boys were going on about selling spots and pretty girls they'd seen, but she wasn't paying any attention. Stifling a yawn behind her hand, she gazed out the window deep in thought. Manhattan was nice, and certainly her accommodations were better than anything she'd had in Ireland, but for all that, she was bored.

Brigid let her mind wander back to her days as a Dublin newsie in the rough and tumble streets of Ringsend; the noise, the fights, the smell of the sea, and the hardened group of boys that were as close as brothers to her. The Manhattan newsies seemed almost childish to her at times, and try as she might, she just couldn't seem to be at ease with them.

"So dere's a party t'night in Brooklyn," Race said, abruptly drawing Brigid's attention back to the conversation. Mush, Blink, and Snoddy exchanged excited looks.

"How do youse know dat?" Snoddy asked. Race smirked around his cigar.

"Hoid one o' Spot's boids tellin' Jack 'bout it oilier," he said smugly. Blink swatted his arm playfully.

"An' we'se just hearin' 'bout dis now why?" he asked. Race shrugged.

"A party?" Brigid asked, finally joining the conversation. The four boys exchanged a glance.

"Youse can' go, Roisin," Mush finally spoke up. Brigid raised her eyebrow.

"An' why is dat, Mush?" she asked, her tone slightly impatient. The boys stared at each other again. Finally, Race sighed.

"Its like dis, Roisin. Brooklyn is da roughest borough in da city. It belongs t' Spot Conlon, an' he ain' nobody t' mess wit'. His parties have a tendency t' get outta hand, an' dere ain' no way we'se lettin' a goil go inta Brooklyn." Brigid laughed.

"Are dere no girls at all in Brooklyn, den?" she asked teasingly. Snoddy cleared his throat nervously.

"Oh, shoah, dere's goils, but dey ain' da good sort, youse know?" he explained. Race nodded.

"Yeah, dey're no' da kinda goils I'se'd want any sistah or goil o' mine t' mix wit'," he agreed. Brigid's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Den its a good t'ing, t' be sure, dat I'm neither, aye?" she said with a wink. The boys groaned.

Later that evening, Brigid found herself trailing along behind the other Manhattan boys as they all made their way over the Brooklyn Bridge and into Spot Conlon's territory. It was a long walk, and Brigid found herself hoping that this party was everything the Manhattan newsies claimed it would be, especially after she practically had to fight Jack to get him to let her come. Not that his refusal would have stopped her, but his reluctant permission did make it easier.

The first thing Brigid noticed was the salty smell of the sea that washed over her from the East River. It was thick and dirty, and wonderfully familiar. A lightness entered her step that hadn't been present since she left Ireland. She followed the boys down a dim and dirty street. As they approached a brightly lit building, the front door opened and the raucous sounds of a Brooklyn party in full swing came roaring out. Brigid smiled genuinely as she listened eagerly to the sound of a fiddle playing a wild reel, not quite drowning out the rough banter and ribald laughter.

The Manhattan newsies filed into the Brooklyn Lodging House, but Jack held back, stopping Brigid at the door. She looked at him questioningly, her eyes holding a touch of impatience.

"I'se want youse t' stay close t' me, Roisin," he ordered. Brigid stifled a laugh as she nodded, willing to agree to anything that would get her in that door. Jack eyed her suspiciously, but finally turned and led her in.

"Jacky-boy! How's it rollin'?" a boy called out from across the room.

"Good, Spot," Jack answered as the two met halfway across the floor and spit shook. Brigid studied the Brooklyn leader. She was surprised to find that he was on the smallish side. If she was tall for a girl, then he was definitely short for a boy, and Brigid was willing to lay money that Spot was no taller than her own 5'8". Her eyes roamed over his body, taking in his lean form. Finally, she let her gaze roam higher to his face, where she found herself caught in the icy blue gaze of the Brooklyn King.

"Like what ya see, goil?" he asked mildly, a smirk teasing his full lips. Brigid answered with a smirk of her own.

"I'll let ya know," she said, giving him a saucy wink. Spot's eyes narrowed slightly, and Brigid felt Jack stiffen beside her. As she gazed boldly back into Spot's intimidating stare, she felt her heart skip merrily in time with the music. This was what she'd been missing in Manhattan. That slight edge of danger, even when it shouldn't be there.

"Since when does 'hattan run wit' goils?" Spot asked, turning his attention back to Jack, who shrugged. Just then, the fiddler swung into another fast and achingly familiar reel. Brigid's eyes searched the room and grew wide when they reached the boy holding the fiddle. For a moment, she paled and swayed unsteadily. Spot stepped forward to steady her as he glanced at Jack.

"What da hell is wrong wit' her?" the confused boy asked, but Jack never got the chance to answer.

"DOYLE!" Brigid screamed, tearing out of Spot's grasp and causing the room to fall silent. But Brigid didn't notice as she pushed her way across the room and hurled herself into the arms of a muscular boy with longish black hair and stunned dark blue eyes. Tears ran unchecked down Brigid's cheeks as she felt Doyle's arms encircle her.

"Roisin," the boy whispered, his own eyes damp and voice shaky. They clung together for a moment before each took a steadying breath and they pulled apart. Doyle's handsome face was lit by a bright smile as he regarded the girl before him.

"Wha' da hell are ye doin' here, lass?" he asked once he had his emotions firmly in check again. Roisin's happy smile faded slightly.

"No' now, Doyle, aye?" she pleaded. Doyle's eyes were deep with concern, but he nodded. A gentle, but steady tapping noise brought their attention back to the room around them. Spot Conlon stood in front of them, tapping the floor with a gold tipped cane.

"Can we'se get back t' me party now?" he asked, amused. Doyle gave his king a sheepish smile and started another tune. Brigid claimed a seat near him and studied the rest of the room. Several tables were set up around the edge of the room and boys were seated around them playing poker. She noticed that Spot and Jack sat at one, along with Race. Spot now had a girl on his lap, and she was giggling as Spot ran his hand familiarly over her barely covered breasts. A half empty bottle of whiskey sat on the table before him, and his other hand held his cards.

In the open center of the room, newsies from Brooklyn and Manhattan alike, were dancing with several girls that looked suspiciously like prostitutes. The boys were making fools out of themselves over the girls, who in turn were leading them on in hopes of parting them with their hard earned money. Brigid shook her head and chuckled. She was glad she was a girl, and therefore exempt from boyish stupidity.

As Brigid sat watching the crowd, she didn't notice that one of the girls was more than a little drunk and eying her with interest. Spot, however, was watching the scene unfold with amusement. Not used to girl newsies, she obviously mistook Brigid's trouser, button down shirt, and newsie hat clad body for that of a boy. Spot's eyes danced with hidden glee as the girl eased her way onto Brigid's lap and ran her hand up her chest. Both girls froze as the prostitute realized her mistake and quickly vacated Brigid's lap with a mumbled apology.

Face burning, Brigid glanced around, only to find Spot Conlon watching her, his gaze both laughing, and something else, dark and nameless. A thrill ran through her as she purposely forced her gaze away, causing him to frown slightly even as his hand continued to roam over the girl in his lap. With a shrug, he shook himself out of his thoughts and turned his mind back to his poker game.

All too soon, the party began to wind itself down as boys began to wander upstairs either alone, or sometimes in the company of one of the girls. Jack and his boys were getting ready to leave when Brigid approached Spot with Doyle trailing behind her. Spot watched her, his eyes commanding an explanation. Brigid wasn't one to disappoint.

"I wanna stay in Brooklyn, yer lordship," she all but begged, her tone respectful. Spot raised his eyebrow, but said nothing. Brigid shifted under his icy stare, but refused to back down. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Jack heading her way with a frown on his face, and she knew she had to be quick.

"Doyle is like a brother t' me! I lost him once, an' I've no desire t' be doin' so again," she rushed ahead, pleading. Spot shifted his gaze to Doyle, who nodded in confirmation. Spot took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"We'se ain' nevah had a goil newsie befoah, Doyle," he pointed out, causing the dark haired boy's face to fall slightly.

"Howevah, we'se also ain' nevah had a goil so pretty as this one try it," he continued. Brigid glared at him, not liking where this was leading. Spot watched her closely.

"What if I'se said da only way I'se'd let youse stay was if youse slept wit' me?" he asked. Brigid's eyes lost their sparkle as she glanced between Doyle and Spot.

"Den much as I wanna stay wit' Doyle, I'd have t' say no, Spot Conlon, fo' I'm no' a whore fo' ye t' play wit'," she said, her voice strong, but tinged with sadness. Spot's gaze was unreadable as he continued to study Brigid.

"Trash fire in alley causes cat to relocate kittens," he threw out randomly. Brigid's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't miss a beat.

"Raging inferno forces terrified mother to heroically rescue children," she shot back. Spot's expression gave nothing away as he pulled a slingshot out of his back pocket.

"Can youse shoot one o' dese?" Brigid almost lied, but then shook her head.

"No, but I can learn," she answered honestly. Spot allowed a brief smile before his face again went blank and he turned the full force of his intimidating gaze on her.

"Can youse fight?" he asked harshly, all hints of playfulness gone. Brigid shivered slightly as she realized finally why Spot was so feared and respected. For all that he was small, he was one of the most compelling people that Brigid had ever met.

"Aye," she all but whispered, inwardly shuddering at the coldness shooting from his eyes. Then all thoughts were gone, as, lightning fast, he struck out at her. Brigid danced backwards on pure instinct, and Spot's fist barely grazed her chin. Without thinking, Brigid rushed the Brooklynite, catching them both off guard as they fell to the ground in a tangled heap. For the second time that night, the room was deadly silent. Nervous energy crackled through the ranks of boys as Brigid scramble up and offered her hand to the fallen leader. With a slow, calculating smile, Spot took her offered hand and pulled himself up.

"Lets dance, youse an' me," he said, his voice deadly. Doyle stepped forward nervously, but one glare from Spot had him retreating back. Spot pulled his red suspenders off his shoulders and tugged his blue shirt over his head. He then pulled his cane from his belt loop and tossed it, along with his slingshot, knife, and cap, to Jack, who stood watching the events unfold with an almost comical look of alarm on his handsome face. Brigid felt the adrenaline begin to flow as she, too, removed a pair of knives from her person and handed them off to a concerned Race.

"Doyle! Give us a tune we'se can dance t'," Spot called out, his tone conveying unquestioned authority. Doyle obeyed his leader's command, his fingers shaky at first, but gaining strength as the music overtook him. Spot and Brigid circled each other warily. Brigid was grudgingly impressed by the slim but well defined chest of the boy before her, and his arms, though thin, were corded with lean, ropey muscles. Untamed by his cap, his dirty blond hair now fell forward into his face, giving him a roguish look.

Finally, Spot made the first move as he feigned to the right, then came in hard with a left. Brigid felt pain shoot up her side as his fist connected and she cursed herself for being so sloppy. But despite the pain, Brigid couldn't stop the dazzling smile that leapt to her lips as she gave herself up to the thrill of the music, the fight, and the enigma before her. Spot's momentary pause at the beauty of her smile cost him a split lip.

With a growl, Spot threw a series of quick jabs at Brigid's head and shoulders, successfully distracting her from his goal to lock a foot around her ankle and bring her down. Once more, they were in a tangle on the floor, but this time it was Spot climbing to his feet first and offering a hand. Brigid took it willingly but instead of pulling herself up, she gave it a sharp tug. Spot stumbled forward slightly allowing Brigid to get a knee up and drive it into his stomach.

Spot dropped to his knees, holding his stomach, his head slightly bowed. Brigid moved in then, intending to finish him. Too late, she realized her mistake as Spot wrapped his arms around her, pinning her own arms to her side. Using his strength advantage, he muscled her to the ground and straddled her chest, his hands pinning her wrists. Still Brigid struggled, and Spot's lips twitched slightly. Then, to the amazement of his boys, he began to laugh.

"Doyle!" he called once more, as he got to his feet, pulling Brigid with him. Doyle abruptly stopped playing and hurried to his leader's side.

"Aye?" he asked, glancing nervously between Spot's split and bleeding lip, and Brigid's bruised cheek.

"Introduce Roisin around an' make sure she gets a bunk." With that, Spot retrieved his possessions from Jack and spit shook with the other leader. Then he wrapped his arm around the girl that had occupied his lap that evening and, with a jaunty wave, disappeared up the stairs.


	3. Settling In & Unsettling

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Newsies. Brigid/Roisin Dubh, Doyle, and Liverpool are mine.**

**A/N Sorry for the delay. Again, work sucks! This chapter is shorter than I would like, but I really wanted to get something up for y'all! Enjoy, I hope... :)**

**Royal Shadow1- Thank you for the encouragement, and for the offer of help! And no, you are not creepy... lol! :)**

**Firefly Conlon- Thank you so much! :)**

**RiotAct- I didn't like your story, I LOVED your story! Couldn't stop reading it at all! :) Thank you for reading mine as well, and I hope you won't be disappointed.**

**BrennaBerr- Aw! :) I dunno about that, as I have read some AMAZING stories on here, but thank you for such high praise! Or maybe not, cause now I will have to work extra hard to deserve it... hehe!**

Two weeks later, Brigid strolled down a crowded Brooklyn street. The early October sun shone brightly and did its best to chase away the slight chill that was beginning to seep into the shortening days. As she rounded a corner, Brigid's face broke into a grin as she recognized a face in the crowd.

"Liverpool!" she called out merrily, causing a blond boy to pause and turn, his hazel eyes scanning the crowd.

" 'Ey, Roisin," the boy greeted Brigid as she made her way to his side. He smiled down at her affectionately.

"Youse sell all yer papes already?" he asked with just a hint of envy. Brigid laughed.

"Aye! No' so bad fo' me first day alone, huh?" she asked, her green eyes dancing with mischief. Liverpool snorted.

"Foist day alone in Brooklyn, maybe, but anyone wit' eyes can see dat youse been doin' dis fo' awhile," he retorted. Brigid rolled her eyes.

"Ah, give us some o' ye papes, den. I'll help ye sell 'em an' we can meet Doyle at da Harp an' Shamrock," she said, holding out her arms.

"Anyone evah tell youse dat yer an angel?" Liverpool teased as he handed her half of his remaining papes.

"No' since I left da lads in Ringsend havin' t' sell dere own papes," she said with a wink. Liverpool gave Brigid a shove, causing her to stumble and scramble to keep her balance.

"Maybe dat'll knock youse down a peg, goil! I'se t'ink yer ego is gettin' t' be almost as big as Spot's!" he said with a snicker as Brigid regained her balance. Brigid tossed her hair and shot the older boy a haughty look.

"Well, if it is, ye only have yerselves t' blame, since all I've been hearin' from you lads fo' da last two weeks is how wonderful I am," she said with a sniff and a coy pout. Liverpool gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Youse bettah quit talkin' like dat or Spot'll t'ink youse're aftah his throne!" he laughed.

"Are youse?" a cool voice asked from behind, causing the two teens to spin around in surprise. Spot raised an eyebrow at their guilty faces, his clear blue eyes unreadable.

"Spot! Heya, how's it rollin'?" Liverpool greeted the Brooklyn leader nervously.

"Good afternoon, yer Highness," Brigid added with an impish grin. Spot circled the pair, tapping his cane on the sidewalk. Stopping in front of them once more, he cocked his head slightly. Brigid and Liverpool shifted uneasily under his assessing gaze. Finally, he shook his head as the corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes began to sparkle.

"I'se dunno, Liverpool, I'se t'inkin' she's go' a ways t' go befoah her ego is anywhere neah as big as mine, don' youse?" he asked with a cocky smirk as he turned away.

"See youse at da docks latah," he said over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd. Liverpool let out a sigh of relief.

"Dat was close! I dunno what's got Spot in such a good mood lately, but whatevah it is, I hope it lasts!" he exclaimed. Brigid nodded absently as she stared after Spot, her gaze thoughtful. Ever since the night Spot had let her stay in Brooklyn, Brigid knew he had been watching her closely. At first, she figured it was because she was new, and any leader with half a brain would do the same. But here lately, Brigid had started getting an uneasy feeling that it was more than that.

"Youse comin' or what?" Liverpool asked, startling Brigid from her thoughts.

"Ye go ahead. I'll meet up wit' ye at da Harp an' Shamrock." Liverpool shrugged.

"See youse!" he called as he too disappeared into the crowd, leaving Brigid alone.


	4. Overrun Wit' Goils

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Newsies. Brigid/Roisin Dubh, Doyle, Liverpool, Banshee, and Ginny are mine.**

**Firefly Conlon- This one is a little longer! ;) **

**elleestJenn- Thank you for reading! Hope you continue to enjoy it. :)**

**Royal shadow1- Thank you for the high praise! :)**

**RiotAct- Ah! Thank you for beating life with a stick! Someone needed to do it... ;) LOL!**

It took Brigid longer than she had anticipated to sell the last of Liverpool's papes, as her mind was no longer focused on headlines. A protesting growl of her stomach reminded her that Doyle and Liverpool were waiting at the Harp and Shamrock, and that they would begin to worry if she didn't show up. Forcing her mind back on track, she quickly rid herself of the last two remaining papes and set off to join her friends.

Brigid turned down an alley shortcut that Doyle had shown her last week, proud that she had remembered it. Her pride was forgotten, however, when she noticed a ragged, dirty girl huddled against the wall. She appeared to be sleeping, but as Brigid drew nearer, she noticed that the girl's breathing was shallow and uneven. She knelt down and shook the girl gently, but got only a quiet moan in response. With a muttered curse, Brigid jumped up to get help.

Brigid raced out of the alley in the direction of the tavern and her waiting friends. She had barely made it a block, however, when a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to a sudden stop. Brigid turned, prepared to fight, and was only mildly relieved to find that the hand belonged to Banshee, Spot's fearsome looking second. She shuddered as she pulled herself quickly from his grasp and backed up a step. Banshee scowled at her from beneath the brim of his battered brown derby.

"Where ye off t' so fast, Roisin?" he growled.

"Dere's a girl in da alley back dere. I t'ink she's sick," Brigid explained as she watched Banshee warily. His dark eyes scanned the street around them and he tugged absently at his chin length brown hair. Though his hair was worn long to cover it, Brigid could see the scar that ran down the right side of his face from temple to chin. Feeling her eyes on him, Banshee glared at her before turning away from her. To Brigid's surprise, he started back towards the alley. She fell in step beside him, but kept glancing at him nervously.

"Jaysus, Roisin, I'm no' gonna hurt ye, a'right?" he said without looking at her. He spoke gruffly, but Brigid was startled to hear an undercurrent of hurt in his tone. Of all the boys that she had met, Banshee was the only one that she hadn't taken a liking to. He was a formidable boy and Brigid could see why Spot had chosen him for his second as they were similar in temperament, although Banshee didn't have Spot's charm. Now Brigid wondered if maybe she hadn't misjudged him.

When they reached the alley where Brigid had found the girl, Banshee hurried to the still form and dropped to his knees.

"Ah, shite," he muttered as he gently rolled the girl to her back and studied her. Behind him, Brigid shifted nervously.

"Do ye know her den?" she asked as Banshee cradled the girl in his arms and rose to his feet. Banshee nodded.

"Aye, she's Ginny O'Reilly," he answered with a slight frown. "Spot's been wit' her a time or two." Brigid noticed an undercurrent of anger in Banshee's tone as he looked down at the girl, his eyes gentle.

"What's wrong wit' her?"

"Not'in' a decent meal an' some rest won' cure," was his short reply. Brigid let out a sigh of relief.

"Where are ye takin' her den?" Brigid asked. For a split second, Banshee's dark eyes were uncertain, but then they hardened with resolve.

"T' da lodgin' house," he replied firmly as he began walking with long, determined strides.

"Spot won' let her stay," Brigid cautioned as she hurried to keep up with the taller boy. Banshee shot her an angry glare that almost caused her to falter.

"Where else can I take her huh? Ye give me a better idea, Miss High an' Mighty!" Banshee demanded angrily, causing the girl in his arms to stir. Brigid shook her head with a sigh.

"Lets go," Banshee ordered, gentling his tone so as not to wake the girl.

When Brigid and Banshee arrived at the lodging house, Banshee sent one of the boys that were hanging around the front steps to find Spot. Then he carried Ginny upstairs and laid her on his bunk. Brigid got a wet rag from the washroom and laid it on her forehead. Ginny let out a low moan as her eyes fluttered open. When she saw Banshee, her eyes widened.

"Banshee?" she asked wearily. The boy nodded.

"Aye, ye're in Spot's lodgin' house now, darlin', " he answered. Ginny gave him a weak smile as her eyes slid shut again. Brigid pulled Banshee's blanket over Ginny just as Spot strolled through the door.

"What da hell is goin' on in here?" Spot demanded as Banshee met him halfway across the floor.

"Roisin found Ginny O'Reilly in da alley, Spot. She's no' well, an' I t'ought dat maybe she could stay here 'til she felt better," Banshee explained.

"Youse t'ought dat, huh? Where's she gonna sleep? In dat bed wit' youse? Da floor? We're full, Banshee, even if I'se did decide t' let a goil stay," Spot said. Banshee glared at Spot, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

"Roisin is a girl, an' don' even try t' tell me ye've forgo' dat, Spot Conlon," Banshee started to argue.

"What of it, Banshee? Roisin is a newsie, an' a damn good one. It's me own business if I'se lettin' her stay, an' I'se no' about t' let me login' house get over run wit' goils because o' dat!" Spot replied coldly, matching the taller boy's glare. Banshee took a step forward.

"So its alright fo' ye t' take girls t' bed wit' ye, bu' ye'll no' help one in trouble? Dat ain' da leader I started followin'," Banshee said, his voice low and deadly as he spit on the ground at Spot's feet. Spot clenched his fists, his eyes daring Banshee to continue.

"Will da two o' ye shut da hell up already? Jaysus!" Brigid exclaimed as she stepped between the two boys, who both stared at her in surprise. Turning to Spot, she put a hand on his chest and pushed him back towards the door.

"Will ye calm down, Spot? Nobody is askin' ye t' let her stay fo' good, aye? Just until da poor t'ing is back on her feet!" Brigid whispered. Spot glanced down at where her hand still rested on his chest, then raised his eyes to hers with a slow smile. Brigid dropped her hand and took a step backwards. Spot's smile faded and he looked away.

"Told youse already, we're full." he said flatly, watching Banshee as he paced around the bed. Brigid laid her hand on his arm, causing him to swing his glare back to her.

"Please, Spot?" she asked quietly, meeting his glare with a pleading gaze. Spot felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest that scared the shit out of him as he felt himself start to get lost in her eyes.

"Damn youse, Roisin," Spot growled as he spun around and stormed out of the bunkroom, slamming the door behind him. Brigid stared at the door that Spot had just slammed, her hands trembling slightly.

"He likes ye, ya know," Banshee said. Brigid laughed nervously.

"Da only person Spot Conlon likes is himself," she retorted, though she was afraid he was right. Banshee eyed her curiously.

"What do ye have against Spot?" he asked. Brigid rolled her eyes.

"Even if I did have anyt'in' against him, which I don', I'd hardly be tellin' his second, now would I?" she snapped, causing Banshee to let out a short but genuine laugh.

"I guess ye wouldn'," he admitted with a small grin.

"Why do ye care anyway? A minute ago, ye were ready t' kill each ot'er!"

"He's still me leader, an' a damn good one, most o' da time. He's just a lil arseways when it comes t' girls. He's got no use fo' 'em beyond a toss, an' dat's da trut' o' it," Banshee laughed.

"An' ye wonder what I could possibly have against da arrogant bastard!" Brigid exclaimed indignantly. Banshee's smile faded a bit as he studied her.

"Bet ye could change his mind quick enough," he said. Brigid started to laugh, but stopped when she saw Banshee was serious. Her eyes widened and she shook her head.

"No' a chance, boyo!" she exclaimed, trying to convince both of them.


	5. Banished

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Newsies. Brigid/Roisin Dubh, Doyle, Liverpool, Banshee, and Ginny are mine.**

**Firefly Conlon- Thank you! :) I am hoping to get even better as I go... As I said, this is my first Fan Fic ever, and I am hoping to learn from it! **

**Water vs. Fire- Thank you for your exuberant praise! I hope you continue to read and enjoy! :)**

_**Spot's p.o.v.**_

Spot sat on his favorite perch looking out over the Brooklyn docks. Below him, several of his newsies milled about, caught up in various activities. Most of them were playing cards or dice, but a few hardier boys were still diving into the East River despite the chill.

"Hey Spot!" Spot glanced down to see Doyle and Liverpool approaching his throne. The pair looked nervous.

"Yeah?" he asked, fingering the gold handle of his cane as the two shifted uncomfortably under his cool gaze. Finally Doyle stepped forward slightly.

"Roisin was s'posed t' meet us at da Harp an' Shamrock, bu' she never did. We're worried." Spot turned his gaze back to the water with a sigh.

"She's at da lodgin' house wit' Banshee. Dey found Ginny O'Reilly passed out in da alley," he said, fighting to keep the frustration he was feeling out of his voice. Banshee was the closest thing to a friend that Spot had, besides maybe Jack Kelly, and their fight had bothered him more than he cared to admit. Not to mention the fact that Roisin had all but overruled him with nothing more than a soft plea.

"Shit!" he muttered, causing Doyle and Liverpool to pause in their departure.

"Youse need somet'in' Spot?" Liverpool asked. Spot shook his head vaguely as he stared out over the water. Doyle and Liverpool started to leave again.

"Wait," Spot's quiet but firm tone stopped them. He tossed Doyle a two quarters.

"Get some food. Roisin missed dinner, an' Ginny will be hungry when she wakes up," he ordered before turning to watch the docks spring to life as the fishing boats began to unload their catches.

"Shoah t'in', Spot," Liverpool said with a wink at Doyle, who smirked back at him.

_**Brigid's p.o.v.**_

"How long have ye liked her, Banshee," Brigid asked as she sat on the floor beside Banshee's bunk. Banshee sat on the other side watching the auburn haired girl, but he glanced up, his eyes startled, when Brigid spoke.

"I don' know wha' ye're talkin' about," he said warily. Brigid smiled gently.

"Dere's no shame in likin' someone, ye know," she reassured the uncomfortable boy. Banshee sighed and went back to gazing at the girl in his bed.

"Since I met her," he answered finally.

"Did ye tell her?" Brigid asked. Banshee let out a humorless laugh.

"She was wit' Spot."

"Well, she's in yer bed now, den, ain' she?" Brigid asked with a grin as the rest of the newsies began to flood into the bunkroom. She stood up when she saw Doyle and Liverpool, and went to meet them.

"Fo' as much as ye say ye can' stand him, ye an' Banshee seemed t'ick as t'ieves over dere," Doyle teased her as she approached. Brigid rolled her eyes.

"Maybe he's no' so bad, aye?" she conceded as Liverpool held out a greasy, paper wrapped package. Brigid took it with a raised eyebrow.

"Youse hungry?" he asked. Brigid nodded, realizing she hadn't eaten.

"T'anks! How much do I owe ye?" she asked as she opened the package. Her eyes widened when she saw how much food there was. Doyle and Liverpool exchanged a sly glance.

"Dere's enough dere fo' youse an' Ginny. An' Spot already paid fo' it, so..." Liverpool trailed off with a wink. Brigid darted a glance across the crowded room to where Spot stood talking to a group of boys. He was joking and smiling, but his eyes were colder than usual as they roamed the room. They finally came to rest on Banshee where he still sat beside Ginny, who was beginning to stir. A brief frown flickered across his lips and he glanced quickly away.

As Brigid watched the Brooklyn king, a slow anger began to build towards the boy. _Had his fun wit' dat poor girl an' was probably plannin' on never seein' her again, da bastard._ _An' Banshee half in love wit' da lass, _she thought angrily as she made her way back to the couple in question.

"Here's some food fo' ye, Ginny," she offered gently as she handed a still warm deli sandwich to the groggy girl. Ginny took it with an embarrassed smile, her brown eyes downcast.

"T'anks, miss, bu' I'se don' got any money t' pay ye back wit'. Go' fired from da factory las' week, an' its hard t' find a decent job," she explained. Brigid smiled a thin smile as she waved off the girl's weak protest.

"Himself already paid fo' it," she explained with a vague wave in Spot's direction. Banshee scowled at the adoringly grateful smile that blossomed on Ginny's tired face as she glanced over at Spot. With a muttered oath, he stood and stalked out of the room. Ginny watched him leave with a puzzled frown.

"What's wrong wit' Banshee, den?" she asked. Brigid rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to shake the girl.

"He likes ye," she answered tersely.

"Banshee? Wit' dat horrible scar o' his? He was nice t' me when I was here wit' Spot, but..." Ginny laughed lightly until she looked up to see Brigid watching her with angry eyes.

"Jaysus, yer serious," she murmured, her face paling.

"He may no' be as pretty, bu' he's bloody well nicer den dat arrogant arse," Brigid seethed as she jerked her head angrily in Spot's direction. Ginny's eyes widened at Brigid's harsh words.

"Shhhhh!" she cautioned. But Brigid was too angry to head her warning.

"Why should I be quiet? I'm so tired o' Spot Conlon an' da way he expects everyone to bow down an' kiss his arse!" she ground out, not noticing that the room around her had fallen silent until a tight grip on her arm tugged her around and she found herself staring into Spot's icy blue eyes.

"Is dat so?" he asked with feigned nonchalance. Brigid shuddered in spite of herself, but recovered quickly and jerked herself from Spot's grasp. His eyes narrowed as she jerked her chin up and glared at him silently.

_**Spot's p.o.v.**_

Spot was as tired as he'd ever been in his seventeen years. While being a leader had its perks, it also came with a heavy load of responsibilities, and Spot, unlike some of the more easygoing leaders, took those responsibilities very seriously. As Brooklyn's ragged king, he ruled his rough borough with an iron fist, earning him a reputation as a tyrant.

Spot was no fool. He knew what was said about him in the street and especially in other boroughs. Sometimes it bothered him, if he thought about it too much, and sometimes he envied Jack Kelly and the easy interaction he had with his boys, but he kept those weaknesses locked down tight behind a glare or a smirk. If the loneliness he felt got too much for him, there was always a bottle and a willing girl to be found in Brooklyn. And if the facade of his own arrogance began to eat at his soul, he reminded himself that his bold persona was oftentimes the only thing standing between his boys and disaster.

But everyone has a breaking point, and Spot was no exception. For the past week, rumors had been flying that Rooster in Queens was looking to expand his territory into Brooklyn. Although Spot wasn't overly concerned just yet, he hadn't gotten to where he was by underestimating opponents either, and he had been spending a lot of time gathering information from his birdies and other informants. He wasn't liking what he was hearing, but he was careful to keep any doubts between himself and Banshee, the only person he had ever fully trusted in his entire life.

But now he and Banshee were at odds, and that didn't sit well with Spot. Especially since the reason for their discord was a girl, as Spot had always made a point not to let any girl get to him. And yet somehow, the black haired, green eyed girl in front of him had done just that.

"Is dat so?" he repeated, his eyes cold and deadly. When Roisin took a step back, her defiance fading into nervous fear, Spot covered the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach with a humorless smirk. A quick glance around the room confirmed that his newsies were avidly watching the confrontation. _No doubt layin' odds on whos'll win dis, _he thought, his anger building. The fact that there was any doubt at all was causing his blood to simmer.

"T' hell wit' dis," he exclaimed, tired of the drama and the confused feelings. "I'se want youse outta me lodgin' house now."


End file.
